


mine is yours

by nutmeg101



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Football | Soccer, National Women's Soccer League, US Women's Soccer National Team, Women's Professional Soccer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 22:49:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5182559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg101/pseuds/nutmeg101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>four times hope and kelley were just too domestic for their own good</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	mine is yours

_i._

It’s a Sunday afternoon in July when Kelley decides to open a bottle of white wine. The breeze that flutters through the open kitchen window is warm and sticks to skin like steam that rises from a fresh pot of coffee.

Kelley has long since been all too familiar with Hope’s house, knows all the ins and outs and never has to ask where anything is. She knows that the fourth step on the staircase creeks with a vengeance if it’s not stepped on with the right amount of weight; she knows that if Leo’s food bowl isn’t placed in the exact right spot and his food isn’t mixed _properly_ , he won’t touch it.

Hope is watching; perched on a barstool with her elbows propped onto the counter while she absently flips through a cookbook as Kelley navigates her way through the kitchen with ease and wipes away the condensation that drips from the chilled bottle. She then rummages through a drawer for a corkscrew. From the living room, a James Bay tune softly croons.

“I think you know this kitchen better than I do,” Hope says, fully committing her gaze to Kelley from across the counter. Kelley looks over her shoulder and grins, shrugging casually. Then she spins on her heels to pull two wine glasses out of the cabinet that’s almost too tall for her.

“Find any good recipes?” Kelley gestures with a head nod towards the cookbook, the one that her mom had sent to Hope’s place when Hope had jokingly complained about Kelley’s lack of cooking imagination; there’s only so many times she can eat poorly seasoned chicken breast and Caesar salad before it all starts to lose taste.

“This pasta looks good,” Hope taps her finger on the page, looking at Kelley half expectantly with an unmistakable smirk. It’s a smirk that Kelley has memorized, that Hope only flashes when she’s trying to get something out of her. Kelley uncorks the wine, it pops crisp and clean, and fills the two glasses generously.

“Am I supposed to make that for you?”

“I mean, you don’t  _have_  to.”

“We could make it tonight,” Kelley offers, padding around the counter with both glasses in hand. She hands one to Hope and then with her free hand, tugs Hope’s knees out from under the counter, spinning her in her seat, until she can comfortably nestle between them. Hope slinks an arm around Kelley’s waist and keeps her close, pressing a soft kiss into her chin.

“To my personal chef,” Hope winks, holding up her glass. Kelley rolls her eyes and Hope laughs as they clink because usually she’s the one doing the rolling. “Let’s make it now though, I’m hungry.”

As it turns out, Hope ends up doing most of the cooking, like chopping the vegetables and preparing all the other ingredients. She leaves the easier tasks to Kelley, like boiling the water and stirring the sauce. After a couple of glasses of wine however, it’s probably all she can really handle. Kelley’s hands are too distracted anyways, just always on Hope; around her waist, on her biceps. At one point, they’re under Hope’s shirt and resting dangerously low on her stomach and Hope almost drops her knife.

It’s like this most weekends when they’re together. Simple, lazy, free. They’re the most comfortable in their relationship that they have been in years. The distance doesn’t stress them out anymore and there’s no more fear. Kelley isn’t afraid to love Hope, and Hope isn’t afraid to let her, to love her back.

While the sauce simmers and the pasta boils, filling the house with the earthy scent of tomatoes and herbs, Kelley turns up the music in the living room—it’s  _Band of Horses_ now, a very mellow and acoustic tune—and refills their glasses again. She takes Hope by the hand and leads her to the open space in the kitchen where the sunlight slopes through the blinds and slants across their bodies, glinting off the countertops.

“What are you doing?” Hope asks.

“Dance with me,” Kelley smiles, not really giving her an option though it’s not as if Hope protests.

Kelley’s always affectionate, but Hope especially loves it when she gets like this, so unapologetic and deliberate in her actions. Her hands are commanding, but they’re also clumsy enough in a way that Hope always finds so endearing that she can’t help but melt into them. And so with both of them feeling as light and fuzzy as they do, they slow dance pressed decisively together, swaying in tiny circles, and exchanging fleeting and not so fleeting kisses until they lose track of time. Until the pasta water over boils and sauce starts to burn.

Until they’ve forgotten where they are.

 

_ii._

When Hope has a cold, Kelley stays up all night with her. The sniffles had started on the plane ride from Seattle to New Jersey, but now, hardly a day later and thanks to the drastic weather change, Hope’s nose is red and raw and her head feels like a balloon that just refuses to pop.

They’re curled up on Kelley’s L-shaped couch under thick fleece blankets while outside the first snow fall of the season is upon them; light, white flakes freezing onto the window pane. Hope’s sock-feet try to tangle with Kelley’s whose are bare and cold despite her claims that she’s just fine. She just doesn’t want to get up and leave the confines of Hope’s embrace, as sick as she may be.

Before them, the TV mumbles lowly and illuminates the otherwise dark room while they snicker at the infomercial of the  _Slap Chop,_  one of Kelley’s favourites. She can almost recite it word for word, a spiel that Hope had heard time and time again. Hope’s head rests comfortably on Kelley’s chest and when she’s not being jolted around by the laughter, she’s lulled into a semi-conscious state with the rise and fall Kelley’s breathing, the gentle and steady beating of her heart.

As the time ticks by, Hope gets progressively more and more congested until her voice is unrecognizably nasally and it breaks Kelley’s heart to the point where she has to go out and get her some medicine.

“Babe, it’s fine,” Hope protests, fisting her hands into Kelley’s hoodie, keeping her in place. “I’ll be fine, don’t go. It’s late and snowing.”

Kelley wiggles her way out from under Hope and props a pillow under her head in lieu of her body. She places two firm hands on Hope’s cheeks and looks at her with frustration, eyebrows furrowed, because all she wants to do is kiss her, dammit, and as much as she does love Hope, she’s not interested in getting a mouth full of snot.

“Trust me, you need it,” Kelley says, settling for a kiss on Hope’s forehead. Hope closes her eyes and tries for an exhale, but it comes out as more of a wheeze than anything else and Kelley can’t help the pitiful laugh that escapes her. Hope still tries to stop her, but she knows that even if it were blizzarding and monsooning, Kelley would still go out of her way to get whatever it was that she needed. Kelley’s been like that since the beginning and it’s only one of a million reasons that Hope loves her so much.

“Just be careful, okay?” Hope makes Kelley promise as she slips on her boots and zips up her coat at the door.

“Always for you,” Kelley says before ducking out.

By the time Kelley returns with a paper bag full of cold medicine, cough drops, and several other things from the 24-hour mart, Hope is fast asleep on the couch. Kelley quietly toes off her boots and hangs up her coat. She tiptoes over and turns off the TV, wondering if she should wake Hope and help her to the bed. But Hope is completely knocked out and Kelley remembers the last time she tried to wake her from a deep sleep—it didn’t end well for either of them.

One thing Kelley will never be able to get over though, is just how beautiful Hope always looks even if her hair is a matted mess, her make-up has completely smudged, and she’s snoring with her mouth open like a banshee. She might be a mess, but no one else has ever seen like her like this—completely defenseless and unaware—she’s Kelley’s mess.

So before Kelley accidentally wakes her, she pulls the blankets up to Hope’s chin, brushes away the hair that’s collected in front of her face and places another gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Sleep tight,” she whispers before placing a box of tissues next to her and heading to her room.

The next morning, Hope awakes to a quiet and still apartment. When she looks out from Kelley’s fourth story window, the ground is covered in a healthy layer of snow and when she looks towards the door, her boots and coat are gone. The smell of something warm and brothy leads her in the direction of the kitchen and that’s where she finds a small pot of chicken soup waiting for her on the stove. It’s accompanied by a note on the counter that reads:

> _Hey beautiful,_
> 
> _I just stepped out for a bit to run a few errands. You were sleeping too soundly to wake so call me if there’s anything you need. If not, I’ll see you a bit. Warm up the soup and enjoy!_
> 
> _Love you._
> 
> _PS: The cold medicine is in the small paper bag on the coffee table. Take it!!!_

Hope smiles, already feeling the congestion deflate out of her head. She takes the note and folds it neatly, tucking it away for safekeeping. Kelley doesn’t know, but Hope’s been keeping mementos of their relationship ever since they were still only just friends; and Hope definitely won’t tell Kelley she keeps them all in a shoebox in her closet back home.

Groggily, she heats up the soup and drinks it, letting the warmth of it soothe her throat. She can’t taste much unfortunately, but when she’s done she can only hope for the same fortune when she gags back the Buckley’s.

Sometimes she’ll wonder how she got so lucky with Kelley and as many times as she’ll try and rationalize it she’ll come up short. All that she does know is that she might spend her entire life trying to be just as good to Kelley as Kelley is to her, but it’ll be time well spent.

Eventually, the cold medicine starts to kick in and everything around her slowly becomes a blur. And again, by the time Kelley gets back, Hope is fast asleep. Only this time she’s in the bed and hugging Kelley’s favourite stuffed bear.

Kelley leans against the doorframe to her bedroom, her heart filling with her certain type of warmth and completeness that only the sight of Hope could bring. And she probably shouldn’t, but Kelley pulls out her phone and snaps a quick picture. It’s too cute of a moment to pass up, but then Kelley gets in the bed with her.

Hope stirs for only a moment, but it’s simply to replace the bear with Kelley.

 

_iii._

Hope doesn’t even need to ask Kelley to help her fold her laundry. In fact, she was never even going to and never has. Kelley just sort of always plops down on the floor in front of her and starts pulling clothes out of the basket and folding. At first, Hope would try and stop her, tell her to watch TV or something. Now she just smiles and throws the clothes on her.

“Oh, this must have fallen in your hamper,” Kelley says pulling out her red Stanford t-shirt. She presses it to her face, relishing the warmth of it and the freshness of Hope’s detergent. It’s a scent that’s starting to smell like home.

“No, I washed it for you. I saw that stain on it and I don’t even  _want_  to know what it was.”

“It was mustard!” Kelley defends, folding it neatly. Hope raises an eyebrow.

“Since when is mustard dark brown?”

“Since when were you my mother?”

Hope purses her lips and Kelley narrows her eyes. There’s a beat of silence but no intent behind either of it and then they’re both laughing as Kelley flings a bra at Hope’s head.

“Hey, that’s expensive lingerie.”

“I should know, I bought it for you,” Kelley winks. Hope just pulls a pair of jeans out and tosses it at Kelley.

When all the laundry is folded and put away, they collapse onto the couch in a knot of bodies and limbs while a rerun of  _30 Rock_  plays on the TV. That is, until Leo starts barking and whining at the front door. Kelley groans and only cuddles into Hope more.

“Come on,” Hope says, patting a lazy Kelley on the butt to get up. “Let’s go for a walk. We can get ice cream on the way back.”

That’s all it takes for Kelley to beat Hope to Leo’s leash.

 

_iv._

“I hate that you have to leave tomorrow,” Kelley says to Hope one night while they’re lying in bed. It’s dim in Kelley’s room, just the glow of the hall light creeping through the crack in the door. Hope sighs and rolls onto her side, pulling the comforter higher until their shoulders are covered. She drapes an arm around Kelley’s back and tugs her close, legs tangled, foreheads and noses pressed together.

“Me too,” Hope whispers, her breath dancing across Kelley’s lips. Time spent together never feels nearly as long as it should and the cross-country journey from Seattle to New Jersey and vice versa, while second nature and simply part of the deal, is slowly starting to wear on both of them.

Kelley is already practically asleep when Hope draws her head back to look at her. Her eyelids are heavy and shut, and the crease that’s usually deep set between her brows has disappeared. She’s mumbling something incoherently and she’ll never know of the way Hope is looking at her with all this damn _love_  in her eyes, like she’s completely enamored because well, quite frankly, she is.

Even after all these years, Hope still finds it funny that it wasn’t a surprise to  _anybody_ except herself (and Kelley) when she finally had the confidence to admit that she did in fact love Kelley as more than just a friend.

Now there’s the physical evidence to prove it. Like the way Hope has left a part of her life here in New Jersey because even if 3000 miles separate them, she has a drawer of her own here at Kelley’s stuffed with all the essentials. There’s also a shelf in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom that belongs to just her, cluttered with her toothbrush and other various toiletries and jewelry.

And Kelley has a drawer at Hope’s place too. It spills from the edges anytime Hope opens it. Usually she’ll only open it when she’s really missing Kelley; like when she’s had a long day of practice or doesn’t play her best game. She’ll take the last hoodie she remembers Kelley wearing and put it on. And come to think of it, Hope’s been missing her Huskies pullover for a while now and she’ll bet anything it’s hidden away in Kelley’s drawer. She doesn’t mind though.

Now, as the cloak of midnight falls upon them, Hope can see the outline of her jeans poking out of Kelley’s laundry basket and the way that what little light shines into rooms reflects off the framed photo of the two of them on dresser. The one that was taken well before any of  _this_  had happened, where Kelley is innocently kissing Hope on the cheek and Hope is mid-laugh. The one where whenever Hope looks at it, she wonders if she had known then she had already fallen for Kelley.

“Kell?” Hope removes the hand that’s drawing aimless patterns on Kelley’s back and softy traces her fingertips across the freckles on her cheek.

“Mmm?” Kelley stirs, her eyes just barely opening.

“Have you ever thought of living together? Like, during the offseason?” The words come out quicker than Hope expects, but she means them wholeheartedly. Kelley’s eyes open all the way and then her mouth curves into a smile.

“Not here though, there’s nothing to do. I’d rather live in Seattle. Besides, Leo would be so bored here. And also, you have a pool.”

Kelley’s response takes Hope by surprise. She hadn’t expected such a committed answer and now there’s a thrum of excitement whizzing through her body—there’s suddenly a light at the end of all this.

“We could paint the spare bedroom,” Hope says grinning sleepily. “Make that one ours. It’s bigger.”

“Ours,” Kelley repeats, “I like the sound of that. Can I decorate it?”

“You can do whatever you want.”

Kelley’s smiling wide now and it’s a smile that Hope knows she wants to look at forever.

“I love you,” Hope says, the words quiet as they leave her mouth. It’s far from the first time she’s ever said them. It’s just that this time, there’s a different weight to it. There’s permanence, there’s a sense of tomorrow that’s never been. Kelley inches forward and closes her lips over Hope’s, kissing her resolutely until they both feel it all the way in their toes.

“I love you too,” Kelley mumbles in between shared breaths.


End file.
